Breaking Stride
by TwiFic Challenge
Summary: For the Twi-Fic Challenge: Bella has just transferred from an Arizona Community College to Weston College in Washington State, but her move was not by choice. She's running. By Janiemr


**Breaking Stride **Twi-Fic Challenge  
**Challenge Phrase:** "I'm sorry. If you were right I would agree with you." **  
****PenName:** **Janiemr**  
**Characters:** Bella, Edward  
**Summary:** Bella has just transferred from an Arizona Community College to Weston College in Washington State. The past two years she has spent perfecting her running and is quite an excellent distance runner. Allured by Weston's idyllic campus and impeccably groomed trails she's ready to take on a new set of runners. But, Bella's move to Weston was not by choice. She's running. Find out exactly what she is running from and what will happen when she meets someone she finds she cannot run from?

_I have never written any fan fiction before so please please be kind. I meant this to be a one shot but I have a lot of thoughts going on about this story, as my summary states so maybe it will end up being more? Who knows. When you comment let me know what you think about more?_

**_Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters._**

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**Breaking Stride**

Here I was again. What was I doing?

Running? Running again? Running away?

After two miserable years spent at Scottsdale community college I had finally made the move and transferred to Weston College. Weston was a small private college of just 2,000 students located on the upper peninsula of Washington State. I picked this college because I needed to escape. I needed to run. Run away again one last time and I knew here I could start over. I could be who ever I wanted to. Weston took me away from anything reminding of the past. I had picked it sight unseen. The brochure showed the lush green campus and the impeccably groomed trails. Photos of young attractive students learning against the backdrop of the ocean and the thought of an idyllic campus were all it took to get me to apply. And, when I was accepted I sent my deposit off the same , Weston was the ideal place for me to run, both literally and figuratively. It's rolling hills and challenging trails both intrigued me, and somewhat scared me but I was looking forward to my first run here. I lived for running. Over the past two years I had perfected my form and with each race I ran I became a little wiser to this independent sport. It was essentially my outlet. I really wanted to join Weston's running club. I was fast and the challenge of keeping pace with a new set of runners excited me. It was the exhilaration, the high of running that kept me working out and getting out there everyday.

Running away was another thing. That, I had perfected a long time ago.

For now the running would have to wait. I glanced down at my watch. I knew it was getting late and I needed to get myself to the library for the transfer meeting. Transferring mid semester was not ideal but at this point it was the only choice I had. I stopped to look at the map I was provided in orientation 25 minutes earlier. For a small campus I wasn't having much luck figuring out how to get to the library. I now wished I had taken Weston up on that tour they offered right after I was accepted. I noticed headed toward me was a short woman in her mid 50's, and she appeared to be in a quite a rush. Not wanting to slow her down but desperately needing help, I politely asked if she could point me in the right direction. She looked me up and down, taking in my casual appearance before grabbing the map from my hands. She began studying it and then started pointing straight and motioning to the right. I thanked her profusely and took off in a hurried pace so I wouldn't be too late.

Once inside the library I saw an enormous staircase that lead up to the second level. I began my assent to room 204 where the meeting was about to begin without me. I took the stairs two at a time. It felt good to finally work my legs again after the move and I realized, out of habit that I was pushing my body during my assent upwards. I could see the room just down the hallway. I walked though the door just as the mingling stopped and seating began. I slid in quietly and took a seat toward the back, my legs burning a little from my power assent. I preferred to remain fairly inconspicuous. I had always hated attention, and during the last few years I had mastered the art of blending in.

As people started to quiet down, some students, who I assumed to be the leaders, simply because of their attire began passing out papers. In turn everyone began passing them down the rows. There was a buzz about the room. It was strange, for transfer students a lot of these people seemed to know each other. Either that or they were just really extraverted, extremely talkative or overly friendly. Not too many introverts like me. This would be interesting.

I straightened out my paper; and noticed it read like a calendar. It was full of events.

SPRING DANCE

BONFIRE

SOCCER PEP RALLY

BBQ IN THE QUAD

What? This wasn't right? I looked up from my paper and scanned the crowd. Everyone was chatting and laughing. Two girls in front of me were discussing the dates on the form and I heard something about shopping and a blue dress. I searched for someone like me, someone else who had gotten it wrong. As usual, no one met my glance and I looked back down at my paper. We're they kidding me? Spring Dance? Soccer Pep Rally? I dug furiously through my bag looking for the information on this transfer meeting. I found the blue invitation at the bottom next to a leaking pen and old discarded gum wrapper. Excellent another something to take care of. I held the invite up.

_ Weston College invites you  
__ and all other new semester transfer students  
__ to attend a short informational meeting  
__ presented by the Student Transfer Club._

_ Friday January 14th__  
__ in Weston's Historic Library  
__ Room 204._

_The Student Transfer Club is a great way to meet new students and learn about college activities. The goal of the Student Transfer Club is to do philanthropic work throughout our community while working to promote school spirit. Along with welcoming transfer students into Weston's college community we invite all transfer students to this meeting to get to know other students and learn more about Weston College._

Dammit. "Club". How I had missed the word "club"? This was no informational meeting. This was a damn club with members and committees and all the structure I loathed. I shoved the invite back into my bag. I couldn't believe I had missed the word "club". I really thought this meeting was more a "meet and greet" and although an introvert, I wasn't a complete loner. I liked to meet new people I just wasn't a committee sort of person, and this meeting was beginning to feel a little too committee for me.

I realized I was now sitting in a room full of transfer students who were ready to begin scheduling a repeat of the horrid events of high school, right on this very college campus. Really, how could I have gotten this so wrong? This was nothing more than a meeting for the Glee Club. I sought out an escape. I knew I wouldn't make it though and hour of rah-rah Weston torture. As I looked around to weigh my options, the first speaker began their spiel. Shit. I was stuck. It had been a long day and I really wasn't in the mood to hear all about dances and roasting hogs over an open spit all in the name of Weston College. Could this get any worse? Unfortunately, all it took was introduction of the tall blonde at the front of the room to answer that question.

She introduced herself as Rosalie Hale, a junior at Weston. I hated her immediately. She was the kind of girl that had ruined my high school experience. Girls like her were just one small part of the reasons I was running, running away that is. She was the perfect cheerleader-type girl. I was disgusted. She had beautiful hair, the color of warm sand with the most impeccable low lights. It was hard for me to look at her because she was so, so perfect. Her body was slim with delicate curves, and she looked like a model in her grey pencil skirt, fitted, white, button-up shirt and black pumps. Everything about her was sensible and well,of course perfect. I became painfully conscious of my worn jeans and Converse shoes. Without thinking I squeezed my arms a little tighter in front of me trying to cover myself up while managing to slide a little lower in my chair. My mind began to tick off my imperfections. Small breasts, bird legs, nest of messy brown curls, large feet. I noticed when she began to speak that she looked from person to person, taking in the room. She was an eloquent speaker and the room was fully engaged. I continued dipping lower in my attempt to become invisible. I wasn't exactly hearing what she was saying; all I knew was I wanted to get the hell out this room and away from these freaks who were trying to recreate my high school nightmares. I shifted again. She was talking about decorating for the spring dance and how their budget was cut this year. I was still half listening and planning my escape when her eyes locked to mine for just a second to long. She seemed to size me up in that second and it was almost as if I could hear her thoughts,

_'What is that? A hoodie? Seriously? Barely a drop of make up on her. Good God! Well, welcome to Weston honey'._

She paused, eyes still locked on me, smiled, and continued on.

That look was all it took and I knew I needed to run. I was so uncomfortable in this space. I had to get out. I needed to find an indiscreet way to slip out. I weigned my options. I was only four seats from the door and I thought that I had a pretty good shot at walking out without causing too much of a distraction. I was planning my escape when I heard her say,

"Now I am going to hand the presentation over to another member of the group. He's in charge of heading Weston's philanthropic efforts in our community."

Thank God she was wrapping up.

"Although," she added winking, "I think you'll agree that my job here is explicitly to promote the true spirit of Weston."

"I'm sorry. If you were right I would agree with you." I heard someone begin. "But I think you'll see Weston's philanthropic efforts by far showcase the real school spirit of this institution."

Now was my chance, time to get the hell out. I raised myself ever so slightly from my slouched position readying myself to leave. I began to shift my weight to my thighs. I decided it would be polite to take one last look at the podium - my bon voyage glance. But when I looked, I saw _him_. I saw him and it was like something hit me, and hit me hard. I found myself shifting all my weight backwards. My legs had completely given out, much like they did after one on my distance runs. In those cases though, I was usually able to tell my brain to move. Now, nothing worked. I couldn't seem to stand.

He was the most breathtaking thing I had even seen.

As he began talking I realized that couldn't I hear him speaking. Had all my senses but my sight stopped working? My eyes were locked, my body immobile, my hearing gone.

I just took everything in.

I could tell he was older than me - possibly 26 or 27. I was so entranced by him, I just drank him in. His hair a bit too long and messy was a rich chocolate brown color with delicious caramel streaks. He slowly ran his hands though it as he talked. His hands were strong, and perfectly manicured. I wondered what his hair felt like as I watched him slide his hands though it. I moved to his face. His eyes we absolutely amazing. I studied them. Were they brown? Black? I couldn't tell. It was hard not to stare directly into them because they were so sensual, warm and inviting. I could see he was talking but I still couldn't hear a thing. I watched his lips open and close. I observed his mouth as he talked, lips moving and I began to wonder what he tasted like. I wanted to run my fingers over his lips. I saw my hand tracing his lips with trembling fingers. I focused on his shoulders and his arms. He wore a light blue button down shirt that obviously had been custom tailored. I found myself eyeing the top button of his shirt. My thoughts turned to the skin beneath that button. I imagined my hands undoing that button and the others beneath it, slowly running my trembling hands over his bare chest, up his back and along his sides. My heart began to hurt and I lost track of my breath. I moved my eyes to his stomach and waist. His jeans, obviously designer, hugged his thighs. I saw myself placing my hands on his hips slowly, one at a time and pulling him towards me, grabbing at his waist. I though of my hands on his thighs. I imagined myself so close to him, so close feel his breath on me. His hands, I kept watching his hands. I wondered what those hands would feel like on my body.

I studied him for what felt like forever until I began to feel something very foreign in the room. I felt myself hurting so desperately. It was a loss, a longing. Was I longing for something? I couldn't place it. It was an ache, sadness as I watched him. My heart ached but I was confused. Was longing to be near him? As he continued talking my thoughts shifted to somewhere I felt comfortable. Running. I imagined myself running Weston's trails. I imagined an exhausting run. The feel of my legs as I was pushing my body to its limits, the trail beneath my feet. Then, tripping. I started tripping over my feet. I kept trying to stand up but I was cramping and falling down. My legs were moving but I could see that I was just bouncing along the road. I felt myself getting cut from the pavement and my heart ached in pain.

I stumbled back into reality.

I suddenly felt an intense wave of heat run through my body and my face immediately reddened from embarrassment. My senses seemed to return, and I was ready to run. Instinctively, that was all wanted. I lowered my head and tried to cover my face with my hair.

What in the hell was I thinking?

What gave me the right to think those things?

I knew the reality of the situation. Everything sank. I was bruised and torn. No matter what my heart felt or my mind dreamt of, I would never stand a chance with a guy like him. Even though I was here to start over I knew he was way out of my league. That reality was painful. The pain inside told me it was time to run, to sprint, to just run away again because that's what I was best at.

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